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The Press, 

The Pulpit, 
- The Stage. 

A LECTURE 

DELIVERED AT CENTRAL MUSIC HALL, CHICAGO, 

November 28, 1882. 



By J. H. McVICKER. 

11 



CHICAGO; 
THE WESTERN NEWS COMPANY. 

1883. 






19539 



I . KNIGHT & LEONARD 




DEDICATION. 



To those who lack the courage to repel openly that 
which in secret they feel to be false, and so continue to 
sit under the preaching of men licensed by theology to 
cloud the teaching of Him they profess to follow, these 
thoughts are dedicated with the hope of aiding to break 
the darkness with which they surround themselves. Fur- 
thermore the author desires to inspire a manhood which 
will enable them to see the light of the nineteenth cen- 
tury brightening as it approaches the twentieth, and which 
in time will so dazzle those who adhere to the remnants 
of bigotry as to lead them, against their own inclining, 
to the truth and purity of the new theology — the pro- 
duct of free thought and advancing civilization. 



Why, I will fight with him upon this theme. 
Until my eyelids will no longer wag." — Hamlet. 



Christian; " You did well to talk as plainly to him as you did; 
there is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, 
and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it 
doth; for they are these talkative fools whose religion is only in 
words, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that 
being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly) do puz- 
zle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish 
that all men would deal with such, as you have done; then should 
they either be made more conformable to religion, or the com- 
pany of saints would be too hot for them." 

Faithful: " How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes! 
How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes 
To drive down all before him! " But so soon 
As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon 
That's past the full, into the wave he goes, 
And so will all but he that heart-work knows 

— yohn Bunyan — Pilgrim's Progress. 



THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, AND 
THE STAGE. 



HHHE faculty which enables us to discrimi- 
■*■ nate is rarely cultivated to any great 
extent, even by those who set themselves up 
as teachers or leaders in the affairs of every- 
day life. In modern civilization the press, 
the pulpit, and the stage are three great 
powers for good and evil, and while I may 
think it time for the stage to assume a posi- 
tion and talk back, I am not here to apologize 
for it ; nor am I here simply to censure the 
pulpit and condemn the press. These two 
forces set up an ideal of perfection, and each 
thinks itself infallible. The editorial "we" is 
launched like the thunder of Jove ; the utter- 



IO THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 



ances of the sanctuary are the manna from 
heaven. Both preacher and editor assume to 
be a little better than the rest of mankind, 
and both exact from all poor humanity per- 
fection equal to their inspired holiness. That 
isn't fair. All of us cannot be editors and 
preachers ; some of us wouldn't be if we 
could. 

The stage, like the press and the pulpit, has 
its shortcomings, but is not so pretentious as 
its fellows ; hence its sins are not so heinous. 
While preachers and editors are set up as 
models, the world is taught to look upon the 
actor merely as a rollicking, good-natured, but 
worthless fellow. The press and the pulpit 
assume to instruct and to guide ; the stage 
seeks to amuse. When the press is wrong 
and the pulpit intolerant — and you know 
such things sometimes happen — it is felt that 
a great injury has been done. When the 



AND THE STAGE. II 

stage offends, the offense is of the same 
nature as the exuberance of a spoiled child 
that oversteps the bounds of decorum in play- 
ing with the senior who has humored it. 
The offense is reprimanded but forgiven, and 
the play goes on in a more subdued tone. 
But when we read a vicious article in a lead- 
ing newspaper or listen to an uncharitable or 
bigoted sermon from a leading pulpit, we 
feel that the offense " smells rank to heaven." 
A high trust has been betrayed. The 
instructors have misused their power to vitiate 
public opinion, degrade public morals or 
instill false principles into the public mind. 
Hence I need not apologize for the mistakes 
of the stage. I cannot apologize for the more 
deliberate, enduring and far-reaching errors 
of the press and the pulpit. 

In one respect, the pulpit, the press and 
the stage stand uoon a level, — that of 



12 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

reciprocal distrust. The pulpit is constantly 
inveighing against the press and the stage ; 
the press is constantly crying out against the 
stage and pulpit; and the stage cannot help 
feeling that the pulpit and the press are not 
always the pure, truthful and righteous things 
they would have the people believe them to 
be. To the pulpit the stage is a. perennial 
offense ; to the stage the pulpit is a type of 
intolerance. To the press both the others 
are merely material for daily criticism, and to 
both the others the press is dogmatic, inquisi- 
torial and pampered. The public, I think, 
though it may never entirely agree with any 
one of these agencies on extraneous subjects, 
is ever ready to think each is about right 
when speaking of the others. When the 
stage is hard pressed for material, it falls 
back on something of a local or sensational 
kind ; so, when a decline is noted in church 



AND THE STAGE. 



13 



attendance, and the deacon returns, after col- 
lection, with empty plates, the preacher 
pitches into the stage — the standing sensa- 
tion of the pulpit. Many a preacher has 
made himself known to the community 
through a philippic against theater-going, 
who might otherwise have remained in ob- 
scurity all his life long. The stage is of more 
value to these notoriety-seeking ministers than 
the old orthodox hell, — for the devil and his 
pitchfork have come to be regarded, even in 
the church, as mythical, — but the theater, and 
its viciousness are real, terribly real, to the 
poor trembling soul that fears it cannot 
mourn sufficiently in this life to claim eternal 
happiness in the life to come. Then the 
theater is so popular that the preacher is 
sure, that in addition to drawing" a large con- 
gregation, his sermon will be reported in the 
papers of the next day if he takes the stage 



14 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

as a topic, and so he sacrifices his professional 
modesty for the good of the flock. 

I think intelligent persons, whose judg- 
ment has not been distorted by prejudice, 
admit there is good and bad in the press, 
pulpit, and stage. The trouble is we don't 
discriminate. " A place for everything and 
everything in its place," is a good rule of life, 
but few of us follow it. There is a time for all 
things ; the time to read newspapers is at or 
before breakfast, and there is enough to most 
of them nowadays to go round a large family 
or a moderate sized boarding-house. There 
is a time to go to the theater, in the evening 
when the work of the day is done, and a con- 
genial entertainment is offered as a relaxa- 
tion. There is a time to attend church, a 
bright Sunday morning, when new suits and 
new bonnets ,are displayed to advantage. 
There is a time for work and a time for play; a 



AND THE STAGE. I 5 

time for mirth and a time for reflection ; but 
we don't always place things in their right 
order. Discrimination does not seem to be a 
natural gift. The average man is a victim to 
his environments. He takes the world as it 
comes, and drifts along in the channel in 
which he is started. The good frequently 
passes for the bad, and the bad often for the 
good. The sugar-coated pill is taken willingly 
regardless of the medicine it contains. The 
proof-sheet of life is rarely read, and, if read, 
we are too busy to correct the errors when 
they are clearly marked. Life is too short, 
and the gilded god of our day shines so 
bright, that man in his haste to grasp the one 
makes but little effort to lengthen or broaden 
the other. We are a hive of busy bees, but 
we lack the wisdom of the bee, for, from life, 
we do not extract the sweet and avoid the 
bitter. 



1 6 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

The trinity of modern civilization — the 
press, the pulpit, and the stage — should 
work in common for the orood of the human 
race, but they pull apart with selfish motives. 
I will venture to urge some personal claim 
upon your attention in speaking of these three 
great engines of power, and in deprecating 
the lack of discrimination which clogs their 
wheels. I have earned some right to talk of 
newspapers, for I carried them when I was a 
boy, and later learned to set them up in type 
and take them from the press. I have been 
identified with the stage for more years than 
it is necessary to tell (though some good- 
natured critic might say I was never much of 
an actor); and this evening behold I turn 
preacher. If in this last position I am ven- 
turing on consecrated ground, I will aim to 
injure none of the flowers that grow thereon, 
believing I shall find weeds enough to stand 



AND THE STAGE. \*J 

upon while passing in review the press, the 
pulpit and the stage, to see if each occupies 
its proper place, and is in such condition as 
good discipline warrants. 

King Lear, when dividing his kingdom 
among his three daughters, called upon the 
oldest to speak first and urge her claim for 
his consideration. So let us summon the first 
born of our trinity— that is, the stage. Does 
the announcement surprise some of you ? I 
state simply a historical fact. The modern 
drama of every country and every language 
traces its origin to the ancients through the 
church, which only began to condemn when 
it could no longer control the stage. The 
festival of the gods among the Hindoos was 
celebrated by a union of song and dance. It 
was the Hindoo drama. The tenets of Buddh- 
ism are said to be traceable all through the 
dramatic literature of China, and the Chinese 



I 8 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

call their plays "the pleasures of peace and 
prosperity." The Egyptians celebrated the 
doctrine of the immortality of the soul in 
mysterious ceremonies and recitations of a 
dramatic character. The Greek drama was 
intimately connected with the national relig- 
ion of that people. The first introduction of 
dramatic exhibition into Rome (several cen- 
turies before the Christian era) was when the 
Greek actors were sent for to appease divine 
wrath which was signalized by a pestilence. 
Wasn't that as harmless as Noah's getting 
drunk and dancing on Mount Ararat to cele- 
brate the subsidence of the flood ? And was 
it not more natural and humane than for 
Abraham to offer his own son on the altar to 
appease an exacting creature of his supersti- 
tion ? If the religions with which the ancient 
drama was intertwined were Pagan, they were 
still the best known to the various tribes, and 



AND THE STAGE. 



19 



they were less intolerant and more charitable 
than some of the religions of our day. The 
Christian Church adopted the drama for its 
own, and during many centuries it enjoyed 
an exclusive, and, long after, a preponderating 
influence over the stage. In England, France, 
and Germany, the so-called " Miracles " and 
" Moralities" were the staple plays of the day, 
based upon Bible stories. To this day the 
Ober-Ammergau sacred drama in Germany 
and the popular religious performances in 
Spain attest the long time connection between 
the church and the stage. The early fathers 
were short-sighted in permitting so effective an 
agent as the drama to drift away from them. 
But has the stage degenerated by reason of 
cutting loose from the church ? No ! It has 
been emancipated, like governments and in- 
dividuals, from the shackles of ignorance and 
the despotism of superstition. The church 



20 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

no longer dictates the policy of nations ; the 
priests no longer control the powers nor dull 
the pleasures of the stage, and the world is 
freer, happier, and no less pure for the 
change. 

In the stage, then, we have the eldest of the 
great triumvirate I have dared to summon 
before you this evening. It passes by, bear- 
ing its heavy load of abuse and contumely, 
heaped upon it by the second born of the 
group; its sins of commission and omission 
magnified to such an extent that the unthink- 
ing man looks on in wonder, and is disposed to 
reject the philosophic doctrine of the survival 
of the fittest. We hear an occasional voice, 
prompted partly by hate and partly by fear, cry 
out : " Shall it not be banished from the face of 
the earth ? " That voice has been ringing along 
the corridor of ages — but the stage still lives. 
Why? The legend across the proscenium, illu- 



AND THE STAGE. 2 1 

mined in bright and sparkling letters of gold, 
reads: " That which God has implanted in man 
cannot die.'.' The drama is the highest devel- 
opment of the love of spectacle which is born in 
the human breast. There is no other gratifi- 
cation of the senses of sight and hearing 
which satisfies so completely; none which 
reaches the human emotions and sympathies 
so quickly; none which illustrates so vividly 
the story of human life. Thus we see our 
first-born creeping along through neglect and 
discouragement, but always strengthening its 
hold upon the heart of man. We see it with 
abashed countenance and timid tread slowly 
but surely advancing; its adherents doubting 
its power and lacking the courage to claim for 
it a proper place in civilization and social life. 
We see its open hand of charity for all but its 
own, and note its progress, made in a spirit of 
true Christianity, — no element of hate or com- 



2 2 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

bativeness in its nature. As if inspired, it 
responds to the voice of malice: " Our oppo- 
nents cannot kill us ; we can afford to suffer 
and progress." 

Hold this picture of the first-born, for here 
comes the second person of our trinity — the 
church — which has professed ever since its 
birth to hold in its hand all the good there is 
in man on this earth, and to control his desti- 
nies in the life to come. It now walks by us 
with a limping step; but looking back we see 
abundant evidence of its wonderful power. 
We see the heart of man yielding to its care, 
for its spirit had called forth his love. We 
see him blindly following those who arrogantly 
assumed to lead, disregarding that spirit, and 
then we see the bloody wars forced upon man, 
and the dire consequences reaching along the 
line of centuries. We see devastated cities and 
hecatombs of victims sacrificed to selfishness, 



AND THE STAGE. 23 

arrogance and greed. We can hear the shrieks 
of those who have been put to the rack, the 
thumb-screw and the stake. We see the light 
of flames — kindled by the torches of the 
church — alone illume the dark ages. We see 
that with it " Might is Right.' It tortured, it 
sacked, it burned ; and all for the glory of 
Zion. The readers of history need not be 
told that the cruelties of the church extended 
far this side the Reformation. They have 
come down to our own time, but in a wonder- 
fully modified form, being compelled to yield 
to a superior civilization which other forces 
have established ; and hence the church no 
longer avails itself of implements of torture — 
the only implements ever invented under its 
patronage. We see it now as it goes halting by, 
staggering under a load of accumulated ex- 
cesses heavier than the cross which its Hebrew 
ante-type imposed upon the Savior. We see 



24 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

deserters from its ranks, who, in turn, attempt 
reforms by rushing into evils as great as those 
they left behind. We see this second-born 
grow weaker as the world grows stronger, and 
from the seed it sows spring faction after fac- 
tion, creed after creed, all aiming to capture the 
heart of man by traps and springes, quips and 
quirks, bribes and threats — not by love and 
charity. We see that as debility induces dis- 
ease, so the weakness of these creeds and 
factions gives a sign of life to the satisfied 
materialist and the know-nothing agnostic, 
who are " as clouds without water, carried 
along by the wind ; trees without fruit ; wild 
waves of the ocean foaming forth their own 
shame." On all sides we see disintegration 
and contention, and we hear a plaintive voice 
anxiously asking: " What is the trouble with 
the church?" The trouble is, the entrance to 
it is too narrow. The trouble is, it does not 



AND THE STAGE. 



25 



appeal to the judgment of man, but offers him 
empty promises and childish threats. The 
trouble is, it does not touch the proper chord 
in the human heart, or it would meet with a 
greater response- While in all its diversified 
creeds it claims a monopoly of the only true 
God, yet it is an abject devotee of mammon. 
It revels in the possession of millions of idle 
capital, free from taxation, which might furnish 
schoolhouses, libraries and art temples. It 
makes no proffer of good-fellowship — or, if it 
does, it is with icy coldness — except to him 
who has a long purse. It clings to its own 
methods, and offers up superstition and dogma 
as a pabulum for people who have learned to 
think and reason. It plants itself in the light 
of progress. It arrays itself against nature 
and science. It remains gloomy while the 
tendency of our time is to happiness. It has 
failed to keep step with the progress of 



26 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

the world, and is fast becoming a relic of 
exploded methods. Why ? In its youth self- 
ish, narrow-minded zealots seized the child 
and guided its footsteps, disregarding the 
spirit of "good will to all" intended by its 
advent upon earth. The same type of adher- 
ents fill too many of the pulpits of to-day, and 
true Christianity suffers from their work. 

As the panorama passes, the youngest of 
our trio appears. But bear in mind the pic- 
tures of the two older , to be referred to as 
our subject progresses. Over fourteen hun- 
dred years after the wise men were guided 
to Bethlehem, we see a new power revealed 
to the world, destined to emancipate man 
from ignorance and superstition. About the 
time of its birth, the Western Hemisphere 
was discovered, as if a cradle were necessary 
for the repose and liberty of the child, in 
which it might be rocked till it grew to be 



AND THE STAGE. 2 J 



man's greatest hope of the present life. You 
will recognize the last-born as the art of print- 
ing. Let us look at its advent on the Ameri- 
can continent, in the seventeenth century, and 
watch its progress. Like all new forces it 
was viewed with suspicion in the land of its 
birth, and in merry England the wits of the 
play-house, then a noted power with the 
learned, treated it as an object of mirth, while 
the church regarded it as an offspring of the 
devil. Even in the land of Columbus, where 
all things were new, this newest, strongest, 
and mightiest of all was looked upon with 
doubt and dread. Wise legislatures passed 
resolutions condemning it, and learned judges 
cast its apostles into prisons. But the babe 
had seized by the nipple the breast of human- 
ity, and, nourished thereby, it grew and 
thrived, till, gaining strength, it voiced the 
great popular impulse for liberty in the days 



2 8 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

of our revolution. The history of printing 
during the last three centuries has been the 
progressive history of man. I have heard of 
a painting, by a German artist, representing 
Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, showing 
to Faust the first proof-sheet produced from 
type. That picture should be engraved and 
chromoed to bring it within the reach of peo- 
ple everywhere. Its story should be told in 
granite and bronze, and be erected in every 
city, that in our daily walks we might behold 
the initial of the art that spreads light; to 
mankind. See what gigantic strides this 
youth has made. The first newspaper in this 
country was published less than two hundred 
years ago. Of course it was in Boston. It 
was issued monthly, unless a ship arrived or 
some important matter occurred more fre- 
quently. According to its prospectus, its pur- 
pose was " that memorable occurrences of 



AND THE STAGE. 



2 9 



Divine Providence may not be neglected nor 
forgotten, as they too often are." It set forth, 
also, that it "was desirous something may be 
done toward the curing of lying which pre- 
vails among us," from which it appears that 
our forefathers were not entirely free from 
one of the evils of the present day And to 
think that the press of America was started 
as a curative of lying! Comment is unneces- 
sary. This first newspaper was not a blanket 
sheet of our time — being only seven by 
eleven inches in size and containing but three 
pages of printed' matter, two columns to the 
page. It lived but one day, as the legislature 
then sitting in Boston, forbade the circulation 
of " anything in print without license being 
first obtained from those appointed to grant 
the same." Not much liberty of the press in 
that day, but doubtless a similar law would be 
hailed with pleasure by the ringsters of our 



30 THE PRESS THE PULPIT, 

own time. In 1704 another start was made., 
but it advanced with difficulty, as the church 
liked it not and the authorities, bowing to the 
church, did not view it with favor. As late 
as 1722 James, the brother of Benjamin 
Franklin, was imprisoned for speaking too 
freely in the columns of his paper, on politi- 
cal matters. He gave offense to such good 
men as Increase and Cotton Mather, who in 
the spirit of true Christianity — as they under- 
stood it — stigmatized his editorial staff as 
the " Hell-fire Club," and the general court 
then in session decreed that James should no 
longer print a paper. It was then that 
Benjamin Franklin, who had not yet reached 
the age of twenty, took the helm of journal- 
ism and steered boldly into the open sea of 
turmoil, unawed by those in power; and such 
was his progress that in a few years the post- 
master-general authorized him to send his 



AND THE STAGE. 3 I 

paper through the mails — postage free. It 
would be a heavy tax to grant such a privi- 
lege to the press of to-day. During the rev- 
olution the new art struggled against adverse 
circumstances, but added strength to those 
who sought encouragement in the fight for 
liberty. Since the invention of printing and 
the discovery of America, the progress of 
man has been greater than during the fifteen 
preceding centuries, when the church was the 
guiding star of the human race. It is not yet 
a hundred years since the first daily paper was 
published in this country, and we see the 
advance made over a rough road leading to 
riches. It has achieved liberty and greatness, 
but it has not always been faithful to its 
mission, nor respected the power it wields. 
Unlike the stage, it has always been aggres- 
sive ; unlike the pulpit, it has always been 
progressive. It has cost many lives and 



32 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

brought dire distress to many a happy house- 
hold by the license it assumes. Its personal- 
ities from an impersonal, and too frequently 
from an irresponsible source, are a blot upon 
its escutcheon which cannot be rubbed off. 
Its dealings in innuendo to the injury of char- 
acter and the mortification of feelings, is a 
cowardly abuse of power. Its criticisms are 
often more cruel than just. Its self-lauda- 
tion, which is almost universal, is a custom 
which would be more " honored in the breach 
than the observance." It is rarely a fair oppo- 
nent. It accuses, prosecutes and passes sen- 
tence, frequently denying the defendant a 
hearing. Its apologies, as a rule, are no apol- 
ogies at all. But its faults are on the surface, 
and with discrimination can easily be sifted 
from its usefulness. It contains within itself 
the power of reform and of improvement. It 
bears progress on its banner. From the seven 



AND THE STAGE. 



35 



by eleven sheet it has grown to mammoth 
proportions. It comes not quarterly, nor 
monthly as at first, but at all hours, from the 
very break of day, when we are aroused by 
a thousand young shrill voices, shrieking, 
" Here's yer morning papers ; latest news 
from all parts of the world." 

Having thus placed before you a hurried 
panoramic view of my subject, we will now 
enter more into detail. 

Did it ever occur to you how unfair and 
irrational the pulpit really is in its treatment 
of the stage ? Did you ever give it a 
thought ? or are the words uttered by those 
who should have an influence over your 
action of such little value as to make no 
impression ? I am not going to be personal, 
but I have read a report of a sermon in 
which a minister of the Gospel of Charity 
declared that " nine out of every ten actresses 



36 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

because they bellowed ''bald-head" at him as 
he passed, and suppose I held such as he up as 
a type of the pulpit — would that be fair? 
Suppose I single out or rather lump together, 
a lot of preachers and Sunday-school teachers 
who instruct little children that Jews, Indians 
and infants who have not been baptized go 
straight to hell when they die, and proclaim 
that such is the material that fills our pulpits 
— would that be fair? Or suppose I summon 
all the occupants of all the pulpits who religi- 
ously subscribe to the story that the sun 
stood still at Joshua's command, or to the 
romance that the whale swallowed Jonah (or 
Jonah the whale), with all the familiar subse- 
quent proceedings — and also those who 
believe the Lord inspired the practices of 
polygamy, slavery, human sacrifice, cruelty, 
torture and fiendishness to be found in the 
pages of the old Bible, and insist that all 



AND THE STAGE. 37 

preachers must be judged by such a standard 
— would that be fair? Would it be fair for 
the theater to maintain that all religion is 
superstition ; all piety, cant ; all devotion, 
bigotry ; all worship, sham and pretense ; all 
the Bible obscene and blasphemous ; all 
preachers, or nine out of every ten, whited 
sepulchers, and that ninety-nine out of every 
hundred churches had an assignation room 
attached ? No ! Would not such utterances 
be condemned — justly condemned — as pre- 
judiced, unreasonable and wicked ? But that 
course would be as fair as it is to place all 
theaters, all actresses, all actors, and all plays 
upon the same degraded level as the low 
saloons and halls which our municipal govern- 
ments license as theaters and permit to exist 
among us ! 

The trouble with too many occupants of 
our pulpits is that their view of life is in- 



38 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

variably gloomy. Unlike the poet, the 
preacher is made, not born, and too many are 
made in the same mould. You can tell them 
as far as you can see them, and frequently 
you can recognize them in the dark by the 
intonation of the voice. They ask you to be 
joyful with a countenance that looks like a 
cloudy day and in a voice that leaves you in 
doubt as to just where their pain is located. 
When they say, " let us pray," it is with a 
manner calculated to remind you of hard 
work which must be done, or implying anger at 
the good Lord for having inflicted the bur- 
den of life upon their hearers. There are 
just about exceptions enough to prove the 
rule, and they are refreshing when found. It 
is worth a long walk on a stormy day to hear 
a fervent prayer delivered with the earnestness 
an average actor speaks his lines. But the 
pulpit prayer, as a rule, is words uttered in a 



AND THE STAGE. 



39 



manner calculated to allow your thoughts to 
wander from devotion to the affairs of every- 
day life — corn or pork, as the case may be. 
They remind me of the guilty king in Ham- 
let, who says : 

" My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; 
Words without thoughts never to heaven go. " 

The manner of these mournful preachers 
would impress mankind as lamenting because 
the good Lord has given us sunshine and 
flowers ; the senses to enjoy, the heart to feel, 
the mind to analyze and discriminate. This 
would be but a dreary world indeed if we all 
followed the dictum the orthodox pulpit would 
like to prescribe. 

Barnaby, an actor of our day, and otherwise 
a very reputable gentleman, tells a story which 
illustrates the whole case: One of these 
chronically melancholy and morose individuals 
died, and went to heaven. A terrestrial 



40 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

friend followed shortly after, and was sur- 
prised to find his friend, the deacon, as 
long-faced and lachrymose as he had been 
when on earth. "Why, deacon," said he. 
" What is the matter ? I supposed you would 
be happy and joyous when you got to Par- 
adise." " I thought so too," was the deacon's 
reply, " but you see I got my feet wet in 
crossing the river Death. I came up here on 
the edge of a damp cloud and caught cold. I 
broke one of my wings the first day out, and 
have been obliged to carry it in a sling ever 
since ; and then my halo don't fit worth a 

cent." The trouble with the press, on the 

contrary, is that it does not take a sufficiently 
serious view of life. The average journalist 
will tell you that the newspaper lives but one 
day, and, believing this, the tendency of the 
press is to treat all things as though their 
existence were equally ephemeral. Forgetful 



AND THE STAGE. 41 



of the fact that an impression is more lasting 
than the argument which creates it, the press 
does not truly appreciate its own importance, 
much as it prates thereof ; if it did, it would 
have a higher sense of its responsibility. It 
has a wisdom far superior to the church It 
recognizes the universal love of man for 
amusement, and it cunningly avails itself of 
the stage as one of its standard attractions. 
No column in the daily newspaper is read 
with greater relish than that set apart to the 
theater. And yet the press does not always 
treat the stage with justness. Possibly 
because it is not at all times capable of doing 
so, for the reason that its ever-changing critic 
may be a callow youth, who has made a hit in 
police reporting, and, full of confidence in his 
critical ability, proceeds to write up Bul- 
wer's Richelieu as one of Shakespeare's time- 
worn plays. Or he may be a jagged, jaded, 



42 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

over-worked and blase expert, who runs into 
three or four theaters during the evening, sees 
the beginning of one play, the middle of 
another and the end of a third, and then 
damns them all indiscriminately the next day. 
" Can't you speak the lines as I do ?" growled 
Forrest to a minor actor at rehearsal. " If I 
could, I would not be here at $5 a week," was 
the prompt reply. So perhaps we get, as a 
rule, as good theatrical criticism as the pay 
warrants. 

But the press is too much disposed to 
deal in the same loose, hasty fashion with 
all the affairs of life. It aims to turn all mat- 
ters into news, and dish them up, as near as 
possible, as a sensation. It is supremely self- 
ish, and being of the earth, earthy, by the 
purification of the world only will it be puri- 
fied. With the birth of the newsboy came a 
lower standard of the daily press — but the sin 



AND THE STAGE. 43 

must not be placed upon the boys. Within 
my experience newspapers were sold almost 
exclusively to regular subscribers, and the 
patrons of each journal exercised a direct 
influence over its tone. Not so now. From 
one to five cents makes a patron, and the 
editor seldom, if ever, comes in contact with 
his readers to know them. The conservative 
paper, which all admire but few patronize, 
toils on till death, while the reckless sheet 
achieves a lar^e circulation because it has the 
patronage of those who condemn as well as 
those who applaud its depravity. Anthony 
Comstock, the suppressor of indecent litera- 
ture, says the proprietor of the Police Gazette 
told him that most of the articles and illustra- 
tions in that paper are based upon extracts 
from the daily newspapers. Those who con- 
trol our daily papers don't realize how much 
demoralization they must answer for. Yet 



44 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT. 

the press, far more than the stage, holds 
within itself the power of reform. It is an 
admitted leader. We all look for it, and, 
were it true to its mission, making reason, not 
abuse, its sharpest weapon, it would lead, not 
follow, public taste. But " evil communica- 
tions corrupt good manners," and the prosper- 
ous sheet, with a low tone, will drag down 
many to its level by the glamour of its pros- 
perity. 

And now of the profession for which I may 
claim to speak with some knowledge. Those 
of you who have read the carping criticisms 
of the press or listened to the scathing anath- 
emas of the pulpit, may be astonished when I 
tell you, without the fear of successful contra- 
diction, that at no previous period in the his- 
tory of the world has the stage ranked so high 
as it does at the present day. No one of the 
arts has made more progress. In former 



AND THE STAGE. 45 

epochs the stage was subjected to the disci- 
pline of the church or censors appointed by 
government. To-day the public has estab- 
lished a severer regime of good taste and de- 
corum, and the theater keeps pace with civili- 
zation, society, and government. There may 
be much to deplore now in it as in all 
other matters, but there is certainly comfort 
in the reflection that the conditions are in- 
finitely better than ever before. Is there one 
among you who regrets that his or her life 
was not allotted to some earlier period of 
time ? Does history picture any age or coun- 
try which offered so many attractions as our 
own ? The stage, along with other institu- 
tions, has enjoyed the refining and progress- 
ive influences of the same forces which have 
operated to develop social life. Excellence 
is always a matter of comparison. Some plays 
are better than other plays ; some actors bet- 



46 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 



ter than other actors ; some editors and 
preachers (not many) better than other peo- 
ple. In the same way the stage of our day, 
as a whole, is vastly superior in the entertain- 
ment it affords the public to the stage of any 
former period. The cry about the degener- 
acy of the stage, and the good old days of the 
drama, is an old, old story, which had its start 
with crushed tragedians, subdued comedians, 
and those unhappy natures, who, having out- 
lived their usefulness, if they ever had any, 
walk through life with a dark cloud before 
their eyes, causing them to see only them- 
selves, and hence nothing but degeneracy; 
and, thinking backward, they believe if they 
had lived a thousand years that way they 
would have been appreciated. Then we have 
another class in the profession — very small, 
almost amounting to a cypher — but exercising 
a power because they wear the crown of sue- 



AND THE STAGE. 47 

cess. This class traduce their own calling for 
the purpose of fawning upon and toadying 
to an element of society, which, in their cow- 
ardice, they deem better than themselves. 
They are selfish and treacherous by nature, 
and they buzz around the modern critic, who, 
taking up their cry, writes as if he had made a 
new discovery, forgetting that the ancient 
Greek and Roman writers were of the opinion 
that the stage was degenerating in their day. 
The divines of Shakespeare's time, among 
others Gosson, and Joseph Hall, who became 
a bishop, denounced the theater, which even 
Ben Jonson spoke of as "the loathed stage." 
Play actors under Queen Elizabeth were — 
unless vouched for — stigmatized by law as 
" rogues," and they advanced only to the rank 
of "vagabonds" under King James. Shake- 
speare himself was depreciated by his contem- 
poraries. Samuel Pepys, an old gossip who 



48 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

kept a diary, pronounced A Midsummer 
Night's Dream " the most ridiculous play that 
ever he had seen in his life ;" and perhaps it 
was as given in his day. He thought The 
Tempest had " no great wit," and he dismissed 
Othello as "a mean thing." The stage was 
evidently degenerating in the days of Pepys. 
Voltaire joined the crowd in condemning the 
theater a little later on, and Moliere, the 
Shakespeare of France, was denounced in his 
day as a "demon in man's clothing." Colley 
Cibber, a poor actor and unsuccessful mana- 
ger, and also a tinker of Shakespeare's plays, 
deplored " the fatal pollution of virtue and 
manners wrought by the theater, and lament- 
ed the "good old days of dramatic glory, never 
to come again ;" and he might have added 
under his management. Dunlap, an historian 
of the American stage, also an unsuccessful 
manager, quotes, with approval, the words 



AND THE STAGE. 



49 



Cibber applied to an earlier period in Eng- 
land, and says, "they read as if they were 
written by some old fellow of seventy in the 
year 1832." 

A few years ago, when British burlesque 
(designated by our critics as the all leg and 
no brain drama) was introduced into the coun- 
try, we were told, by press and pulpit, that it 
was destined to drag the stage down to perdi- 
tion. Then came the French comedy as the 
rock on which the theater was to be wrecked. 
And so it goes. There is not a day that does 
not bring forth some Jeremiad over the decline 
of the stage. But as the same was true 
ten years ago — fifty years ago— one hundred 
years ago — -three hundred — five hundred years 
ago, during all which time the stage has been 
steadily improving, these chronic croakings do 
not inspire any great apprehension for the 
future, nor any dismay as to the present. 



50 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

People do not pause to take this historical 
view of the case (which is a complete answer 
to the alleged deterioration and degeneracy 
of the stage), but they are confident in their 
own judgment and perceptions, which find 
no such depravity as the press sometimes and 
the pulpit always depicts. In the vast thea- 
ters of the ancients the actors were obliged to 
wear great ugly masks, and raise themselves 
on stilts to be seen, and to bellow through 
pipes, like a modern fire marshal, in order to 
be heard. Are we worse off than the public 
of that day ? During the supervision of the 
church over the stage, the " Miracles," " Mor- 
alities " and " Mysteries," as they called their 
plays, were frequently of four days' duration, 
and required from one hundred to five hun- 
dred bad actors in their representation. Are 
you sorry you have missed that sort of thing ? 
In Shakespeare's time, the change of scene was 



AND THE STAGE. 



51 



denoted by a change of placard. The sign, 
" This is a castle," was taken down to make 
room for another, " This is a ship," " This is 
a forest," according to the necessities of the 
play. Does the stage of to-day show degen- 
eracy as compared with that condition of 
things ? About this same time, the female 
characters were represented by men — not 
always cleanly shaven. Think of the love 
passages of Shakespeare ; of Romeo and a 
Juliet, with a red and black beard. Oh, how 
romantic to have lived and gone to the theater 
in those days ! Play houses were frequently 
located over barns. Are our handsomely 
decorated and comfortably upholstered audi- 
toriums no improvement upon that ? Audi- 
ences would tear up the benches — there were 
no cushions — and threaten to burn the house, 
when the performances did not suit them, and 
people took their lives in their hands who 



52 



THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 



attended a first night. Is there anything like 
a universal demand for a revival of those man- 
ners and customs, referred to so often as the 
good old days of the drama ? Sol Smith, one 
of the veterans of the American stage, and an 
early manager in the South and West, describes 
the experience of pioneer life, when one actor 
appeared in so many parts, in the same play, 
and after being killed in the last scene was 
obliged to fall far enough off the stage to play 
slow music on the violin as the curtain 
descended. And I could add my experience 
to the same scene, at a still later period, when 
the actor who had killed the other would rush 
off the other side, in order to let the curtain 
down. How would such a scene be received 
on the " degenerate " stage of to-day, even in 
small towns ? Young as I am in the history 
of the stage, I have seen some of the so-called 
"good old days of the drama," and have care- 



AND THE STAGE. 53 



fully watched the growth of the " degenerate " 
ones, as spoken of by certain brilliant lights of 
the pulpit and the press, and by disappointed 
actors. 

I remember acting in Georgia during " the 
good old days " in that state, when the actor 
who was to personate Othello was waited 
upon by a committee of citizens and notified 
that he must put no color on his face, as it 
would be setting a bad example to see a 
white girl in love with a colored man ; — so 
Othello was given without paint, and some of 
the lines omitted to please those who lived 
and ruled in those "good old days." In one 
of the then bright towns of Mississippi, I 
have acted on a stage built in a ball-room by 
placing an old-fashioned high post bedstead 
on each side and hanging sheets on the post 
to form a proscenium — with a curtain impro- 
vised with two patch-work bed quilts. The 



54 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

only exits we had were behind the heads of 
the beds — the ladies using one side, the gen- 
tlemen the other for dressing rooms. One of 
the attractions was the " good old" farce of 
" The Secret, or a Hole in the Wall," for the 
proper performance of which there is required 
a secret panel in the scene, from which one 
of the characters makes an entrance and exit. 
When we came to this point in the play, the 
character rolled out of bed and jumped back 
again to make his exit, and the elite of Cof- 
feeville were convulsed with laughter ; and 
when the newspaper of the town came out it 
praised the admirable acting and the excel- 
lent stage arrangements. I remember this 
occasion well, for the reason that the season 
was unsuccessful and salaries were not paid, 
which was frequently the case in the "good 
old days." The manager, however had 
become responsible for the board of the com- 



AND THE STAGE. 55 

pany, and the landlord, a warm-hearted 
southerner, was not hard to settle with, but 
thought he ought to have something to re- 
member the party by, and was willing to 
accept a note, made payable at a time to suit 
the convenience of the maker. The manager 
was a shrewd speculator — they lived in those 
days as well as the present — and, as he told 
the story afterward — not much to his credit 
— he gave a note for the full amount, which 
read, " one day after eternity, I promise," 
etc. It is useless to say that he and the land- 
lord matured before the note. I had some 
little experience with the "good old days of 
the drama " in Missouri. There were then 
no theaters in any but a few of the larger 
cities, but the people, true to their instincts, 
desired the drama and would have it, in a 
school room, dining room, court house, or 
any place they could get it. I remember 



56 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

being connected with a dramatic incident 
which occurred in a school house in one of 
the small towns in Missouri, during the good 
old days. You all know what a country 
school house is like ; the architecture does 
not differ much. The one we are now inter- 
ested in had but one door by which to enter 
the building. This opened into a hall lead- 
ing to another door opening into the school- 
room, which had numerous windows at 
each side and the rear end. By the front 
door, each side, were closets in which the 
boys and girls would hang their hats, shawls 
and dinner baskets — girls to the right, boys 
left, of course. On the present occasion the 
dramatic company used these closets for 
dressing rooms. From the door leading into 
the school-room to the front row of benches 
was only about four feet, in which space 
great acting was expected. The front seats, 



AND THE STAGE. 57 

remember, were reserved for ladies, and on 
this occasion they were filled. The audience 
were all let in and the front door locked 
before the curtain rose, that is, before the 
performance commenced. I was quite tragic 
in those good old days and fond of giving 
between the plays some serious recitation. 
On this occasion it was the " Sailor Boy's 
Dream," in costume. I will not inflict you 
with the entire recitation, as two stanzas will 
suffice. Remember there is but four feet 
between the actor and a row of pretty 
Missouri girls : 

" A father bends o'er him with look of delight ; 

His cheek is impearled\vith a mother's warm tear ; 
And the lips of the boy with a love kiss unite 

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear." 

In my fervor, I caught the eye of one of 
the girls on the front bench, who, doubtless, 
deeming me personal, put up her hand and 
exclaimed, " Oh, my ! " which ejaculation 



58 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

seemed to amuse the audience more than my 
recitation. But determined not to be put 
down, I braced my nerves and proceeded: 

" The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; 

Joy quickens his pulse — his hardships seem o'er; 
A murmur of happiness steals through his rest; 

Oh, God, thou hast blest me, I ask for no more." 

At that point it was customary to kneel, so 
you can see my position. That young lady's 
head was between my hands, and she shouted, 
''oh, don't come so close," and at the same 
time I heard a yell and looking up saw the 
windows of the school room filled with Indi- 
ans who had doubtless been attracted by my 
tragic tones, and, seeing the position I was in 
with the lady, thought the massacre had com- 
menced ; so I made a hasty exit to the hat- 
room feeling for my scalp. 

In Chicago, during my time, some "good 
old days" have passed. No manager was 
ever more loyal to his patrons than J. B. Rice, 



AND THE STAGE. 



59 



who built the first regular theater in this city 
in 1847. His companies were necessarily 
small, but he expected each member to be 
competent to act many parts and set the 
example by doing so himself. He would act 
two or three important characters in a play, 
and if numbers were wanted he would throw 
a black cloak over his other dress and act the 
mob with a spirit that would appall the villain 
of the play. He was a general actor and 
thoroughly understood the requirements of 
his profession and how to surmount difficul- 
ties. He would argue and convince an ordi- 
nary star that it was better to hang " Wil- 
liam," in the drama of " Black-eyed Susan," 
from the limb of a tree than from the yard- 
arm of His Majesty's ship — when he had no 
ship in the theater. In time I became his 
sta^e manager. On one occasion " Othello " 
was to be given, but when night came I 



6o THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 



learned that the leading man who was to per- 
sonate Othello had gone out to dine with a 
party of gentlemen at a suburban hotel, and 
could not possibly be back in time to com- 
mence the play. Rice was a stickler for giv- 
ing his audience the play the bill announced, 
and as I had heard him say he had acted 
everything when in Buffalo, I went to his 
room where he was dressing for the Duke, 
and without letting him know the situation I 
said: " Mr. Rice, did you ever act Othello ?" 
He looked up with a pride which can only be 
appreciated by a professional when able to 
say that he has acted an important Shakes- 
perean character, and replied: "Yes, in Skan- 
eateles." " Well," said I, " now you shall have 
a chance in Chicago," and then I told him 
how matters stood. He expostulated — would 
rather dismiss the audience — but he had 
made me his manager and I would be obeyed. 



AND THE STAGE. 6 I 



Othello was announced and the audience 
must not be disappointed while it was in my 
power to give the play. He desired me to 
apologize to the audience, but I argued that 
would only attract attention to his weak 
points, and the audience would discover them 
soon enough. I did not believe in advance 
apologies. He dressed for Othello; I, in 
addition to Roderigo, with the aid of wigs and 
robes, assumed the characters of the Duke 
and Desdemona's uncle, and the play went 
on, Rice acting at Othello and swearing at 
the leading man. He knew most of the lines 
and, like a well-trained actor, had the faculty 
of omitting- that which he did not know in a 
pleasing manner. He labored through three 
acts, when the absent Othello appeared upon 
the scene. I told him to prepare to finish 
the play, and I notified Rice that I had no 
further use for his services that night, as Mr. 



62 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

McFarland would finish the part. He was 
thankful and resigned, and so the audience 
had two Othellos, one for the first three acts 
weighing about two hundred and forty pounds, 
and for the last acts one weighing about one 
hundred and fifty pounds. A short time 
since my attention was called to this incident 
by an old play-goer, who had just witnessed 
Salvini as Othello, saying: " Mack, Salvini is 
good, but no Othello has ever satisfied me 
since I saw Rice and McFarland in the part. 
That was a realistic Othello — a fine, noble- 
looking one in the first part of the play, and 
a thin, cadaverous one at the end, making it 
appear as if the Moor. had lost flesh when 
his domestic troubles began. Salvini cannot 
reach that point of excellence." Chicago has 
grown so rapidly that the primitive and mature 
days of the drama " tread upon each other's 
heels," and I am frequently asked by the old 






AND THE STAGE. 63 

play-goers who now feel like retiring before 
the play is over, if we have as much fun at 
the theaters now as in the "good old times ?" 
We do, but of a different kind. Much of the 
mirth in new places is of a personal charac- 
ter, a familiarity between actor and audience, 
which disappears with age and large popula- 
tions. Early impressions cling to us ; the 
flavor of a peach is better during the first 
decade of our existence than when we are 
three-score. The peach is as good, perhaps 
better, but we have lost our taste, and fre- 
quently blame it on the fruit. So, with many, 
the good old days of the drama are those of 
youth and familiarity, and can be found now 
by those who emigrate to Dakota, Leadville, 
or New Mexico ; but those who remain at 
home will upon observation find that in all 
its appurtenances and comforts ; in all its illu- 
sions and effects ; in all that makes the thea- 



64 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

ter attractive, the stage of to-day exceeds its 
forerunners in briliancy as much as the elec- 
tric light outshines the old tallow dip. 

It may freely be admitted that the contem- 
poraneous theater is more a place for amuse- 
ment than a school for instruction, and that 
the current drama is written rather to enter- 
tain than to teach. This is not to be 
deplored. Progress demands greater accu- 
racy in information than the stage can give, 
and at the same time retain its character as a 
purveyor of amusement ; and the same prog- 
ress has provided in abundance more suitable, 
more effective and more trustworthy educa- 
tional institutions than the theater. There are 
other fountains where the student may drink. 
Information has been opened up to the masses 
through free schools, cheap books and maga- 
zines, the all-pervading newspaper, the lecture 
lyceum, the literary societies, the public libra- 



AND THE STAGE. 65 



ries, the reading clubs and numerous popular 
and available channels. At the same time it 
may be truthfully contended that a large num- 
ber of the people, even of the present day, 
obtain their ideas of history, and especially of 
art, culture and society, from the stage ; peo- 
ple who learn by observation, who read but 
little, and rarely go to church. In so far, the 
stage is an educator and always will be, for 
such people would read no more than they 
do, nor go to church oftener, if there were 
no theaters. While it is as an entertainment 
that the stage appeals to the public, the drama 
is not less an art on that account. Surely 
people of culture know and will admit that 
the artistic is amusing. The theater does 
mankind an inestimable service if it merely 
amuses. Amusement is more essential to the 
public welfare than ever before. Men and 
women are more deeply engrossed than ever 



66 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

in the daily routine of life, whether it be pro- 
fessional, business or social. They have 
strayed from the restful ways of living which 
their forefathers enjoyed. It is fortunate, 
physically, mentally and morally, that the 
drama has taken on the distinctive character 
of an amusement, at once more rational, more 
entertaining and more elevating than home 
gambling, and most of the diversions that 
attract overworked people. But the theater 
cannot submit to the dictation of pedants and 
professional moralists , if it did, it would soon 
cease to entertain. The legitimate drama, 
so-called, is in no danger of being driven from 
the stage. Neither spectacle, nor opera, nor 
burlesque, nor gymnastics have crowded it 
out. But there is a great deal of sham about 
the reformers. People will affect admiration 
for things they do not enjoy. The dilettanti 
who cry out most for Shakespeare and the 



AND THE STAGE. 6 J 

legitimate drama are the stay-at-homes, who 
rarely go to the theater, and do but little 
toward fostering dramatic taste, for the reason 
they have sufficient pleasure in their own cir- 
cle. Theaters would be bankrupt and the 
public deprived of a favorite pastime, if man- 
agers were to defer to the pretensions or 
demands of any one class. Sometimes fash- 
ion attracts the crowd to see some monstros- 
ity, or giant, or supposed great artist, sur- 
rounded by others employed at rates to swell 
the profits of the star and save the manager 
from loss, while the same plays, acted uni- 
formly, in a more artistic and satisfactory man- 
ner, would be presented to empty benches 
without the star. But the steady patrons of 
the theater — the people to whom it is an 
amusement — demand diversified attractions. 
They do not always want to shudder at Rich- 
ard or Macbeth, nor drivel with Hamlet or 



68 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

Romeo. They — the great masses — seek their 
amusement in an easy, familiar and comforta- 
ble way, and are fond of novelty. While inno- 
vations and trespassers ought to be discour- 
aged in the interest of art, the stage must not 
be permitted to relapse into the dreary monot- 
ony of the pulpit or the rigid discipline of 
the study, for in that case its occupation would 
be gone. It would then cease to entertain, 
and lose its strongest claim upon existence. 
The stage is steadily improving for the reason 
that mankind is steadily undergoing a change, 
and the stage, true to its mission, holds up 
the mirror that the reform may be seen; but 
the notoriety-seeking preacher cannot see its 
advance, for he is of the Bourbon race, and 
neither learns nor forgets. With a doubt- 
creating pulpit and a sensational press, is it not 
to the credit of the theater that it occupies its 
present proud position ? Proprieties of the 






AND THE STAGE. 6q 



stage, as of society, are controlled, in great 
measure, by the customs of the age, which 
come unlooked for with the progress of civil- 
ization — the true mission of man on earth. 

The influence of national habits over the 
drama is well illustrated by the fact that 
intrigues with married women are rigidly 
excluded from the Japanese drama, though 
girls and unmarried women are frequently 
represented as incarnate monsters of vice. 
The reverse of this rule governs the French, 
English, German, and American sta^e. Hence, 
we should condemn the prevailing practice of 
the Japanese drama, while the Japanese would 
be equally shocked at ours. Kissing was ex- 
cluded from the old plays of India, but 
we have abundant reason to believe that 
oscillatory indulgence is now looked upon 
with leniency by the church itself. Cases 
have been reported by the press where 



JO THE ERESS, THE PULE IT, 

even ministers have enjoyed the luxury, 
a proof of the advancement of civilization. If 
editors condemn the practice in the church, 
it is probably because kissing goes by favor, 
and then editors, with a desire to be criti- 
cal, frequently condemn that which they know 
nothing about. The stage deals with human 
emotions, and, in doing so, it exposes vice in a 
lurid light, exalts truth and virtue beyond the 
power of eloquence, and reaches the heart 
of man through pity and love. Our northern 
states never to any extent became anti-slav- 
ery, though preached at from the formation 
of our government, by politician, press and 
pulpit, until the stage placed before them the 
drama of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and with living 
pictures told the tale, impressing its truth upon 
the people. The ex-slaves of America will 
never know how much they are indebted to 
the stage. Ministers will not tell them ; poli- 



AND THE STAGE. 



71 



ticians will not, and the stage, unlike the 
press, is no braggart. The audience in the 
theater, unlike the congregation in the church, 
is always moved ; hence the power of the 
stage, which places the good and bad of 
human nature side by side and never antag- 
onizes morality. If there is an absence of a 
lesson in a play, the performance is designed 
simply to make people laugh, and laughter is 
admitted to be a service to mankind by all 
except those who regard it as the penalty of 
original sin. 

Doubtless with the stage there are many 
abuses to correct — many barnacles to scrape 
off — but its advancement during the present 
generation bespeaks confidence in its steady 
improvement, for the public will learn to dis- 
criminate, and experience will teach the 
purely speculative manager that nothing pays 
so well in the long run as good clean work. 



72 



THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 



Those who win the esteem of the people — 
manager or artist — and prosper longest, will 
be those who respect themselves and the art ; 
and there is no danger of the degeneracy of 
the stage while mankind continues on the 
progressive road of refinement. It is need- 
less for me to dwell on its shortcomings, for 
they are open to the world, being exposed 
more than the sins of any other calling. While 
the minister is protected by the halo of our 
hallucinations and the editor hides behind his 
impersonal "we," the actor is a free mark for 
the shafts of malice, prejudice, satire and 
ignorant criticism. The editor burns the 
midnight oil ; the minister is seen by the "dim 
religious light" of the church; but the actor 
must face the glare of the lime-light or the 
lurid flame of red fire. The strongest protest 
against one of the abuses of the stage in 
some of our cities should come from the 



AND THE STAGE. J $ 



theatrical profession itself and to a certain 
extent does. Sunday theatrical performances 
are scandalous, because they are unnecessary. 
They are unjust to over-worked actors and 
all the employes about theaters — who, as a 
rule, receive but six days' pay for seven days' 
labor. They are demoralizing for the reason 
that they tend to impair the respect which 
Americans intuitively bestow upon the day. 
They are the out-growth of seed planted by 
those who had no respect for themselves, the 
day or the theater, and they have been 
defended and encouraged by that class of 
politicians who tell you that we need a "con- 
tinental Sunday in this country." When 
Sunday theatricals commenced in Chicago, 
those in power were appealed to to raise the 
finger of authority and stop them, but the 
reply was, "we can't, it will hurt the party." 
So the stage is not alone to blame for the 



74 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

abuse. Those who work six days should 
have one of rest, and as Sunday is estab- 
lished, theaters can well afford to give it up 
to the gospel implied by the day — the 
gospel of rest, peace and good will to 
all. That the stage may be improved, no 
one will deny ; to claim perfection for it 
would be folly, but to urge that it has kept 
pace with the general progress of our country 
is simply to assert that which cannot be suc- 
cessfully contradicted. It is subject to the 
same contingencies as all other pursuits cater- 
ing for public favor. It has its art and com- 
mercial side, and frequently it falls into the 
hands of those not capable of guiding both ; 
who, taking advantage of a non-discriminat- 
ing public, allow the commercial side to run 
riot, while the art side is lost sight of. This 
cannot be classed as a fault, but a misfortune 
for which there is no remedy, except in a dis- 



AND THE STAGE. 



75 



criminating public. The stage cannot expect 
protection, for it claims no political influence. 
Our legislatures seldom deem it worthy 
of notice except at the suggestion of some 
bigot who thinks it should be taxed out of 
existence. The author who writes for it 
can be robbed with impunity, congress not 
knowing how to protect that quality of brain, 
it being, I presume, unknown to or unappre- 
ciated by the average member. Amusements 
for the people should be considered worthy 
of thought — intelligent thought — by those 
selected to govern; but they are not, and nine- 
tenths of the errors attributed to theaters can 
be placed at the door of our municipal gov- 
ernments ; and this is not strange when we 
consider how municipalities are created. We 
are like a large family — we differ in our 
desires and tastes. We may all sit at the 
same table, but different dishes must be pro- 



7 6 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, 

vided, for the digestive organs of all are not 
equal. It is the duty of the head of the 
family — the government — to see that no 
poisoned food is furnished, while the variety 
is ample. 

In the hearts of the people the stage proper 
has a place from which the pulpit cannot 
drive it, because it offers palatable food, not 
of sin, as the church proclaims, not of a kind 
calculated to produce a nightmare, as that 
furnished by the pulpit frequently does, but 
a food easily digested and seldom doing harm, 
serious harm, even with over-feeding. 

Discrimination on the part of press, pul- 
pit and stage, on the part of the people, will 
help to bring about the necessary reform ; but 
whether in our metropolitan city homes we 
can hope to realize its full force through the 
application of universal suffrage, as applied to 
municipalities, is a problem the American 



AND THE STAGE. . J 7 



people in time must solve, but which the 
statesmen of the present day prefer to leave 
as a legacy to their successors, fearing it 
might "hurt the party" and their prospects 
to agitate it now, not recognizing it as indis- 
pensable to the peace and happiness of our 
social relations. 

But the world moves, and from the friction 
of to-day will come smoothness to-morrow. 
From the doubt and wonder created by the- 
ology the church will be rescued, for nations 
cannot exist, civilization cannot advance with- 
out a religion, a belief, as the foundation upon 
which life can build a superstructure of hope. 
It will come, based on knowledge and made 
clear to the reason of man. The advance 
guard are already on the march ; the pioneers 
are at work hewing down forests of dogma, 
superstition, and worn-out theology. Other 
forces will follow, and in good time the stumps 



78 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT 

and brush of doubt will disappear, when a clear 
field will open to the view, rich with a harvest 
of truth, teaching that, as we are the founders 
and builders in this life of our individual char- 
acter, so are we the architects of our homes in 
the life to come. Then, with our theological 
colleges turned into temples of general learn- 
ing, with a natural religion, one creed, 
" good will to all," radiating from every pulpit, 
a purer tone pervading the columns of our 
daily journals, our local politics lifted from 
the gutters and placed upon the sidewalks, 
our municipal governments made what they 
are supposed to be, the guardians of the peo- 
ple, with dignity sufficient for self-respect and 
of that quality to win respect from others, — 
then will come a stage true to its mission, 
holding the mirror, reflecting homes with 
goodness prevailing, and wickedness so ob- 
scure as only to be discerned when brought in 



AND THE STAGE. Jg 

contact with truth. It will come ! The hope 
of discrimination and the despair of prejudice 
is knowledge, and it is spreading throughout 
the world. 

In saying good-night, permit me to repeat, 
adopting as my own, a delicate discrimination 
uttered by an actress — one loved by the stage 
and esteemed by all — Charlotte Cushman — 
who, speaking of the arts, said : " I think I 
love and revere all the arts equally, only put- 
ting my own just above the others, because in 
it I recognize the union and culmination of all. 
To me it seems as if, when God conceived 
the world, that was Poetry ! He formed it, 
and that was Sculpture ! He colored it, and 
that was Painting ! and then, crowning work 
of all, He peopled it with living beings, and 
that was the grand, divine, eternal Drama." 



1 



